


Two of a Kind

by halfpennies



Category: Ginger Snaps (2000 2004)
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-16
Updated: 2006-04-16
Packaged: 2017-11-03 18:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfpennies/pseuds/halfpennies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brigitte's found a cabin in the woods to hole up in while she fights the wolf within, but it doesn't take long for an unexpected visitor to sniff her out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two of a Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in a Ginger Snaps: Unleashed AU in which Brigitte escapes Happier Times quickly and on her own.
> 
> Characters and setting are not mine, etc.

As if things weren't bad enough. I can see him clearly through the crack in the blinds, with his stupid glasses and a frantic look on his face. He's still following me. And, sure, I'd be shocked, but people are so damn predictable. Especially males. Single-minded.

Can't I get two days' worth of peace? It's not like I don't have plenty of other people and things after me. I just want to be left alone. And to fix my greenhouse.

Now he's banging on the screen door. I hate this place. It's falling apart. How appropriate. Let him bang all day long, till the door finally breaks. It's not like I have any neighbors out here.

Suddenly I'm curious about how the creep found me. So I get up and open the door. I plan on saying "what?" in the meanest voice I can muster. A voice that means "go the hell away". I'm a mess. The monkshood's starting to become less effective and I know he'll be able to see it in my eyes, amongst other things. But it all gets sucked out of my head as soon as I see his face. Instant reminder that his blood was everywhere. Car. Snow. Me. I can see it again. Smell it. I swallow hard, take a deep breath.

"I thought you were dead," I say through clenched teeth. I'm hugging myself again, from the awkwardness of the situation. Innocent Jeremy the Librarian has no idea I dream about his insides. Nightmares. They're really nightmares. Sometimes it's hard to remember that fact.

He's shaking his head. His hand's on the door frame, as if he's bracing himself from falling over. "I thought I was too," he says, out of breath. "I had to find you," he adds. Oh, well then, that explains everything.

"What do you want?" I force out. Not what I want to know. But his still being alive answers a lot of questions. I can see the thick scars on his neck. A few more weeks and they'll be gone. Or mostly gone. That's if he doesn't get some monkshood in his veins.

"That thing... that attacked us. I wanted to make sure you were alright." He's holding something back, but I can already guess what it is. Nothing shocks me anymore. "Weird things have been happening to me, Brigitte. I... I wanted to make sure you were okay."

I don't believe him. Sure it may have started out that way, caring, concern. Human emotions. But that was before he started looking like the before picture in an acne medication ad. And before he started wanting to rip things apart. I know what he wants. It's what they all want. It's why I have more than one knife.

"I'm fine." A lie. But I'm not about to sell him my sob story of how things haven't been fine for me in a very long time. He looks less than convinced. I glare. "I'm not growing a tail yet, if that's what you mean."

Jeremy is still shocked by things. His eyes nearly pop out of his head. He lets go of the door frame.

"It's crazy," he says. His hand runs through his hair and pauses there, trying to hold onto some tangible bit of sanity. I can tell he's in the process of losing it. "The things I've been thinking. ...The things I've been doing. I mean, I followed you here. I could smell you. How crazy is that?"

Maybe it's not too late to be a humanitarian. Maybe I just feel sorry for him. Maybe I'm reminded of Ginger. It wasn't her fault either. I'm the only moron that chose this. I roll my eyes and hold open the screen door for him. "It's not crazy. It's a disease," I mutter.

"All those books you were checking out. About bloodletting, mythology... I thought you were a writer or something, doing research." He's looking around the house. I found it purely by chance. The place had been abandoned for God knew how long, and it looks it. The sparse threadbare furniture left over from the sixties is nothing to look at either. But it's somewhere safe for me. The cops won't come looking for me here. Neither will those saps at Happier Times. I don't mind the holes in the first floor ceiling.

"I'm sorry you got caught up in all this," I say, but I don't sound like I mean it.

He takes a seat on the couch, all the while he's staring at me. I look away. Force of habit. I like that my hair hides at least half of my face.

"You look okay," he says finally. "I mean, you look more than okay. I think you look good! I just meant that you don't look--"

"Like a werewolf?" I'm not amused. I know how terrible I look. I don't appreciate his patronizing.

"Exactly! So that stuff you were shooting up... it was a cure, wasn't it?"

I watch him fidget for a moment. "No."

"Wait... what?" Again, he still shocks too easily. I lighten up a bit as I watch all traces of hope drain from his face.

"No, it's not a cure. It just postpones things," I clarify for him. He grabs onto enough hope to make him smile. "Wait here."

I head into the kitchen and grab a vial of the purple liquid out of the fridge and a tourniquet and clean syringe out of a drawer. I pause and stare out of the dingy window into the huge overgrown field behind the house. Relax slightly. At the very least it might be nice to have him around for added protection. I know it's only a matter of time before another one hunts me down. At least Jeremy's on my side.


End file.
